The next morning arrived quietly.
For almost everyone.
Henry, however, had barely slept.
Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered Juliene standing in the shadows of his room.
The warmth of her embrace.
The sadness in her smile.
And the hesitation in her voice when she answered his question.
"We are childhood friends."
The words continued to linger in his mind long after dawn arrived.
So when servants guided him toward the grand arena of the Open Clash, Henry looked far more exhausted than a newly honored baron should.
The arena itself was magnificent.
It was built like a massive circular fortress overlooking the eastern sea, its walls layered with banners from every kingdom and faction. Tens of thousands of people filled the seats, their cheers rising like thunder into the sky.
The Open Clash truly gathered the continent together.
Pirates from the Three Flags occupied one section loudly arguing over previous tournaments.
Scholars from City Vlad sat calmly with notebooks already prepared, as if they intended to study the tournament like a lecture.
Barons and nobles from across the kingdom occupied the noble stands, while the Duke of the West sat proudly among the highest seats.
The merchant sections glittered with wealth. Gold chains, jeweled fingers, luxurious clothes—many merchants attended less for battle and more for connections.
Even emissaries from the Elven Kingdom and the Dwarven Kingdom had arrived.
They formally greeted King Dan before taking their assigned seats.
The entire island felt less like a tournament—
And more like the center of the world.
Henry had been seated among the highest-ranking guests near the royal family itself.
A position that made him deeply uncomfortable.
He preferred battlefields over noble attention.
Unfortunately, Irene seemed to enjoy his discomfort greatly.
"You look nervous," she whispered beside him.
"I would rather fight sea monsters than nobles."
"That can be arranged if you wish."
Before Henry could answer, the opening ceremony began.
The crowd roared as the first fighters entered the arena.
Some were famous adventurers.
Some were mercenaries known for surviving impossible battles.
Others were knights carrying noble banners.
The fights were brutal.
Fast.
Exciting.
Steel clashed beneath roaring crowds while mages lit the arena with brilliant spells.
After several matches, King Dan suddenly turned toward Henry.
"I heard you were once an adventurer."
Henry immediately sensed danger.
Before he could answer—
Irene leaned forward enthusiastically.
"Once? He fought pirates, sea beasts, monsters, assassins—"
"Irene."
"He also helped stop a pirate war."
"Irene."
"And survived a Kraken region."
The King looked increasingly interested.
Max looked entertained.
Henry looked betrayed.
Then came the words he feared most.
"Then why don't you compete?"
Henry froze.
Several nobles nearby immediately turned toward him.
Even the merchants looked curious.
Henry forced a polite smile.
"Your Majesty, I am merely—"
"You should join," Irene interrupted immediately.
Her eyes sparkled with malicious encouragement.
"It would be very entertaining."
"I suddenly understand why kingdoms go to war," Henry muttered.
But unfortunately—
Once the King showed interest, refusal became difficult.
And thus—
Henry was unwillingly dragged into the Open Clash.
—
It had been months since Henry last held his sword seriously.
The blade felt strangely familiar in his hand.
Like greeting an old version of himself.
The arena gates opened.
The crowd watched curiously as the now-famous Baron of Tecka stepped onto the battlefield.
Some expected a noble.
Others expected a scholar.
Very few expected what happened next.
The moment the match began—
Henry moved.
Fast.
The first opponent barely reacted before being launched out of bounds from a single strike.
Silence followed.
Then the arena exploded into cheers.
The next matches were no different.
Henry fought without unnecessary movements.
Every strike was efficient.
Every step controlled.
His experience from real battlefields far exceeded most tournament fighters.
This was not sport to him.
It was survival sharpened into instinct.
By the end of the first day—
Henry had won every match.
And unfortunately—
Irene looked unbearably proud about it.
"I told you he was strong."
"You sound like you trained me personally."
"I emotionally supported you."
"That explains my suffering."
—
The second day arrived quickly.
The remaining elimination matches narrowed the competitors until only the strongest remained.
The final ten fighters were announced.
The atmosphere changed immediately.
No more amateurs.
No more easy victories.
Now remained only monsters.
Henry's assigned opponent for the third match was an old veteran warrior.
The moment the man entered the arena, even the crowd quieted slightly.
He was old.
But not weak.
The scars across his body spoke louder than titles.
People whispered his name with respect.
A warrior who once traveled alongside King Dan himself during the old campaigns against demonic creatures.
A survivor from an age of war.
When Henry looked into the old man's eyes—
He saw experience.
Not arrogance.
Not pride.
Only experience.
The match began.
And for the first time in the tournament—
Henry struggled.
The veteran fought differently from younger opponents.
No wasted movement.
No panic.
No openings.
It felt less like fighting a man and more like fighting accumulated years of battle itself.
Several times Henry was forced backward.
Several times the crowd gasped as the old warrior nearly defeated him.
Henry's arms burned.
His breathing grew rough.
At one moment—
He truly stood at the brink of defeat.
But then—
Something changed.
Henry adapted.
He stopped fighting like a tournament participant.
And began fighting like himself.
The sword in his hand moved with ruthless precision.
The final clash shook the arena.
And at last—
The veteran smiled faintly before lowering his blade.
Victory belonged to Henry.
The crowd erupted.
Even the old warrior laughed.
"Well fought, boy."
Henry bowed deeply.
"That means much coming from you."
The remaining matches concluded shortly after.
The finals were approaching.
Excitement consumed the arena.
The strongest fighters remained.
The crowd's energy grew louder with every passing moment.
Then—
As the first final match was about to begin—
BOOOOM!
A massive explosion echoed across the island.
The cheering crowd froze.
Another explosion followed.
Screams rose from outside the arena walls.
A soldier rushed into the royal section in panic.
"Report!"
The man fell to one knee.
"Demonic beasts have swarmed the market district!"
The entire arena fell silent.
Shock spread instantly.
The market areas surrounding the arena were packed with civilians.
Merchants.
Travelers.
Children.
There should have been no possibility of demonic beasts reaching the island.
The island was heavily protected.
Guarded.
Inspected before every tournament.
Then how—
Another explosion interrupted the thought.
Dark energy suddenly spread through the air like smoke.
People screamed.
A wave of demonic miasma rolled across parts of the arena itself.
Henry's expression hardened instantly.
This was wrong.
Very wrong.
The beasts were not simply attacking randomly.
They had appeared too suddenly.
Too close.
Almost as if—
They had been brought here intentionally.
The arena guards immediately moved to protect the royal family.
Knights began evacuating nobles.
Panic spread through the audience like wildfire.
Far below, beyond the arena gates—
Monstrous roars echoed across the island.
Then came another terrifying report.
"The beasts are appearing from inside the city itself!"
Not from the shores.
Not from outside.
From within.
Henry immediately stood.
The air itself felt corrupted.
The demonic energy was thick enough to sting the skin.
Even experienced warriors looked shaken.
King Dan rose slowly from his seat.
His aged eyes sharpened.
"Seal the arena."
"What?" several nobles exclaimed.
"If panic spreads fully, thousands will die."
His voice carried authority instantly.
"Organize evacuation routes."
"Protect the civilians first."
Then he turned toward Henry.
And for the first time since the tournament began—
The atmosphere no longer felt celebratory.
It felt like war.
Henry gripped his sword tightly.
The blade he had rested for months now reflected the dark miasma spreading through the sky.
Somewhere within the chaos—
Someone had planned this.
And somewhere beyond the screams and smoke—
Something far worse was still approaching.